Father be thy name

Lucier never lied? Alastor wanted to scoff, roll his eyes way back in his head and accuse that of being a lie in of itself.

But he didn't.

Something about the Father's comment-- the one wherein he figured that redemption hinged on one's behavior in Hell-- burrowed deep into Alastor's brain and hurt him.

His grin twitched.

"Mm... I don't believe we should make things better here," he told him, inching forward. "Like you said, Hell is punishment."

The hotel, too, was too nice for his liking. Alastor was still frustrated with Charlie for shooting down his more grisly ideas, like putting objects of torment in everyone's rooms (save his, of course) and allowing him to handle the dissenters how he pleased.

His eyes showed dials, and then faded back to normal.

Alastor looked away.

He could tell from the others' expressions that he was holding his tongue; he didn't bother to clarify that he just couldn't remember much of his life before death. He was sure the overlord would latch onto that information in a dissatisfactory way.

"It is, but... if there is a way to redeem people, then, truly, those who achieve it deserve it." He leaned forward, staring into Alastor's eyes, his own not blinking. He had not blinked at all this entire time. He leaned away. What nice eyes Alastor had, he hummed, looking away from the overlord. "I believe hell is a punishment, but even I know that the reasons you can end up in hell can be rather... touchy." Regret could be a big reason, he sighed, and looked back at Alastor, listening to the man as he spoke.

He felt his chest tighten. That felt like something personal; he wouldn't ask about that, not now. He locked that information about the overlords' mother away for later. He kept his expression neutral.

Well, anyone would believe that. Priests, if they were good men, held themselves to strict rules and upheld them.

However...

"Alastor, just like yourself, I am a human, a deeply flawed one at that... Priests... have made many mistakes throughout history, I'm sure that I'm not the only one down here, though I assume it's safer not to dress this way." Looking down briefly at his vaguely priest-like attire. "I've been asked more often times if I'm still religious."

"But as I said, I'm... I was human, and a fundamental part of being human is sinning and being imperfect; it's why we repent, to be forgiven. Some things are harder to forgive; our life spans aren't long enough on earth to be forgiven for some of those things." Or develop deep delusions of grandeur and go crazy, that can happen too.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.

Gestures  of  affection  starters.  Can  be  platonic  and  romantic.  Send  me... (Send  🔄  +  any  emoji  to  reverse  the  outcome.)

Make them cry

“I never loved you.”

“You’re the reason they’re dead!”

“It’s all your fault!”

“Who could ever love you…?”

“You’re so stupid. So weak.”

“Just go away. I don’t want you here.”

Blackmail them

“Who would’ve thought a sweet thing like you would have such a secret?”

“I’ll tell everyone. Scream so loud the country will hear.”

“I have a friend with a radio station, you know. Broadcast it all over the city.”

“If you want this back, you’ll do whatever I say!”

“Be a good little slave, you don’t want your secret out, do you?”

“I know everything. I can ruin you.”

“Beg me, and I might consider keeping my mouth shut.”

Interrogate them

“Sing, birdie.”

“I know exactly how to make you talk.”

“You know some fascinating things, don’t you?”

“I’ll use your greatest weaknesses against you, and you know I know them all.”

“I have means of extracting information from you.”

“I might play with you a little longer after you’ve talked. You’re too cute.”

“You’re tough. But I’ll break you.”

Yell at them

“You idiot! You dumbass! You- you fucking moron!”

“You’re absolutely useless, aren’t you?!”

“What the fuck have you done this time!”

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

“You’re not human! You’re a monster!”

“You’re a disgusting little rat!”

“You’ve fucked up for the last time!”

Physically hurt them

“What, can’t take a punch?”

“I’ll kill you!”

“It’s only a scratch, asshole!”

“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot you!”

“I’ll slit your damn throat!”

“Kiss my shoes or I’ll stomp your head in half.”

“I didn’t mean to draw blood, but oh well.”

“That’s going to bruise.”

Torture them… gently

“You want some of this cake? C’moooon, beg for it!”

“Guess what? SURPRISE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE!”

“Tickle-tickle-tickle! Kitchy kitchy koo!”

“Whaaaat? Is this yours? You can’t have it back, it’s mine now!”

“I’ll stop singing when hell freezes over!”

“Get in the locker, shorty!”

Alastor had been intrigued by the man's presence— it wasn't often someone so religious-seeming made their way into Hell. Not the real ones, the ones with good hearts who did not just use it as a shield to hide behind when their ignorance got too much. The man seemed like a priest.

Alastor couldn't confirm it, but he could infer.

"Lie to you?" the Radio Demon responded, red eyes blown wide. Uncanny. He snaked around him, coming up on the opposite side. "Classic deflection. This is not Confession, Father."

If Lucier wasn't a priest, this would be a horrible assumption on Alastor's end. A rather awkward exchange of words, presented with a barbed tongue and sharp teeth.

Father.

Not that he'd address his biological father any differently.

"I'm no child-- only children pick favorites. Only fools fall for loaded questions."

He stepped in front of him.

Lucier's arm rested behind his back.

Father.

He hadn't been called that in years; he wasn't uncomfortable; it felt like prodding, and he shook his head.

"It's not, but I am not much of a liar." Even in his later years of life, he couldn't remember if he lied, not that he could remember much. His refusal to seek help for mental health struggles ultimately made the later years hazy. "I never was. Not good for a previously ordained man to do." A blatant, blunt confirmation for the prodding.

He hummed quietly.

"I don't think so. Everyone has a favorite thing, good or bad." A gloved hand came out from behind his back as he made a dismissive motion, halting as the topic of redemption came up.

He couldn't lie about that, or rather, he couldn't answer without it seemingly being a lie, with how the topic was going.

"Lie? Well. Again, I do not lie. Not even a fib." He mulled over his thoughts, trying to form them into words. "Well... Not entirely. Hell looks different than how I imagined it." It was much more structured, while chaotic, there was a system, recognizable even to him. He overheard conversations with younger sinners that, excluding the violence, weren't much different than them trying to get by while alive. "Hell is punishment. As hopeful as the princess is. It would be rather odd for there to be a loophole." His hand dropped.

He had felt his being in hell, was deserved, even if he couldn't remember much.

"As for acceptance. If it were a possibility, that would, I assume, have to be up to how you've spent your afterlife. I can't say for sure if I'd be accepted." He looks past Alastor at the door where his Overlord disappeared behind.

"Wouldn't that be fascinating?" He recalled one of the members of the hotel dying. "Though currently this idea seems to be rather unsafe. With the recent death..."

"I wouldn't tell her to give up, I just think she could... refocus her efforts on the denizens of the Pride Ring. Maybe it would make this idea more realistic." He chose his words carefully; he didn't exactly believe in her dream, but he didn't want to say it was impossible. He felt he wouldn't be better than cynical, religion-hating atheists.

there's still a lot of work to be done.

i'm not finished with it yet.

i can't give up just yet.

there's nothing noble about working yourself to death.

you think i can't handle this myself?

there's not enough hours in the day.

i realize you think you have to do this.

working like this helps me think.

i'll sleep when i'm dead.

your work ethic scares me sometimes.

i don't need your help.

do you ever sleep?

they need me.

no matter how hard you work, it won't bring them back.

do you realize how crazy that sounds?

i'm not stopping until this is done.

you need to slow down.

i feel like i'm wasting my life.

have you ever taken a vacation?

i can handle this on my own.

i'm nothing without my work.

you're going to get sick if you keep going like this.

you've proven your point.

you're going to work yourself to death.

there are worse ways to spend a life.

you can't keep going at this pace.

i don't have time to rest.

it needs to be done.

do you have any healthy coping mechanisms, by any chance?

there's no time to waste.

i think it's time for you to take a break.

everything was going great until you stopped me.

i can't sleep yet. not until this is done.

i'm the only one who can do this.

at least let me help you.

if i just focus on my work, i don't have to think about anything else.

i'm not asking you to take a break, i'm telling you.

did you really have to interrupt like that?

i'm not budging.

it's my life's work.

you're not going to convince me otherwise.

when was the last time you slept?

i'll help you finish the job if you promise to get some rest.

you're practically falling asleep standing up.

you can finish this in the morning.

let me get you to bed.

don't you get it? it's over!

working yourself to death isn't going to fix anything.

if i don't do it, no one else will.

i wish you would take some time to rest.

i'm not taking a break, if that's what you're asking.

you just broke my concentration, thank you very much.

i'm not going to bed.

i don't know how to quit.

they're counting on me.

too many people rely on me.

i can't disappoint them.

you need a vacation.

i wish you would just listen to me and slow down.

your eye bags have eye bags.

all right, that's it. i'm putting my foot down.

no more excuses.

what do you get out of this? this overworking thing?

without my work... i'm nothing.

no one else is going to step in.

i don't care about me. i care about them.

we have unfinished business.

if i stop now, it'll be like giving up.

i'm a perfectionist. it's in my nature.

better to pour myself into my work than something else.

i wish you would go easy on yourself.

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